


holding hands (is not the same as talking about feelings)

by shyasamouse



Category: Marvel (Comics), Young Avengers
Genre: Get Together, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, also kinda - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyasamouse/pseuds/shyasamouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy is the only person David doesn't know how to react to and Tommy isn't sure why he cares so much  (and neither of them knows how to just tell each other things goddammit)</p><p>a short how-they-could-have-gotten-together type fic featuring lots of semi-awkward silences</p>
            </blockquote>





	holding hands (is not the same as talking about feelings)

**Author's Note:**

> ok i just had the best idea for a tommydavid get together scene. it got longer than i expected and more prose like than intended but whatever idc. (honestly with all that knowledge in his brain, david totally knows a lot about writing and sometimes gets distracted by wondering about metaphors and shit. (then he gets embarrassed bc he's supposed to be the logic guy but its ok bc no one has to know) ) 
> 
> also i hc that when someone he cared about got hurt, at first tommy would all vengeance, first getting them to safety before going all out on whoever hurt his friends. but then later, he'd be weird, bc he'd still be worried about them (and prob blame himself) but also embarrassed about being worried and unsure about how to deal with the situation and just overall he'd just avoid them bc talking to them would be awkward until they feel better and he feels like things are back to normal at which point he'd treat them like usual

David winced at the pull of the stitches on his side as he reached for the door knob. The doorbell had rung and he assumed it was one of the team coming to check on him after the mess that was their last mission this afternoon. Not Tommy, more than likely, he wasn’t sure the speedster had ever even bothered to announce his presence when coming over before. 

It always went something like this: David would be doing something typical in his apartment, relaxing or building up his knowledge so that it didn't become obsolete. Tommy would suddenly just be there, without prior warning or acknowledgment, usually already talking, in the middle of a conversation that David thought had probably been started before Tommy even phased through his door. David had gotten pretty good at predicting when Tommy would next show up. There was a basic pattern, but it was still a surprise every time it happened. David had at least gotten good at not jumping every time Tommy appeared. 

Ringing the doorbell was never something he had expected from Tommy. Respecting that courtesy now didn't make sense, a piece out of place, but there Tommy was, just outside the open door. 

Tommy was still in his uniform, looking dirty and tired and with an closed-off expression David couldn't parse. David hesitated just long enough for Tommy to start to twitch. Noting the uncomfortable posture, he moved away from the door quickly, gesturing Tommy in. 

The silence was weird. Wrong. He wanted to open his mouth and ask why Tommy was there, but the unchanging look on Tommy's face seemed to stopper the words in his throat. He watched the speedster warily, feeling like one misstep would send him scurrying off like some scared wild animal. 

Tommy looked at him, eyes lingering on his side, where bandages were hidden under the soft cotton of his t-shirt. “You're alright?” he said. It was question, but only barely. David wondered if the glimpse of relief he saw on Tommy's face for a split second was just his imagination. 

“I'm alright,” David affirmed, closing the door and moving to go to the kitchen. His injuries didn't hurt too much now, but he could still feel the slightest rush of adrenaline in his veins and he knew it would be best to get some painkillers and ice before the pain hit full force. Tommy followed him, ghosting along at his heels so softly that David glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was still there. 

In the kitchen, David filled a cup and downed some water with the pain meds. As he pulled out an ice pack, Tommy suddenly spoke, “I don't like it when you get hurt.” David had to restrain himself from jerking up at the words, knowing the sudden movement would only hurt his side and cause Tommy to get twitchy again. 

He looked over at Tommy, who was still bearing that disturbingly neutral expression, and settled on trying to be reassuring over wondering what it was Tommy was actually saying. “It's going to happen every once in a while, but I'll be fine. I've gotten through worse.” 

Tommy's expression grew pinched and he frowned slightly. “It shouldn't have happened at all. None of it.” 

David raised an eyebrow. “Being a superhero involves the risk of getting hurt. We all know that.” 

Tommy frowned more, the slightest pull at his lips, and didn't reply. David waited for a second to see if he would say anything else before grabbing his ice pack and starting to walk over to sit on the couch. But as he passed, Tommy suddenly stepped forward, bringing them face to face. 

Tommy looked him over once again, his hand reached out slightly, almost grazing the hidden injury before dropping back down. Not looking him in the eye, Tommy said quietly, “You freaked me out. Getting hit like that.” 

“I'm okay,” David said. When Tommy didn't respond, he grasped Tommy's wrist in a loose grip, holding the same hand that had almost touched him. Tommy glanced up at that, and David noted that his expression had opened up into something almost lost, still worried and vulnerable in a way that seemed alien on Tommy's face. It took his breath away and as the pause stretched on, he anticipated the warmth of the wrist in his hand to disappear in a blink. Or perhaps it would disappear in a breath, gone before he could finish exhaling the reassurances in his thoughts. “I'm okay,” David said again, meaning it even more than the first time. “You got me out.” 

Tommy's expression twisted, something determined and scared and unsure all at once flitting across his face faster than David could react. And then there was a slight whoosh of air and a breathtaking second of chapped lips against his, a whisper of contact gone in an instant. In that moment, David knew Tommy was going to leave, fleeing at impossible speeds away from this connection like some distant wind, uncapturable and leaving any ties trying to bind it behind in the dust it raised up. 

David's hand was still around his wrist. Tommy had pulled back, turned half away, half turned towards David. He wondered at the implications of that position, how Tommy was stuck somewhere inbetween running and staying. He tried to find the right words to say, the ones that would make Tommy stay and let them discuss whatever this was. He tried to ignore the way his heart was beating hard against his ribs, joyous chorus going on in the back of his head crowing that this had to mean that Tommy liked him back.

Tommy, as always, was faster. He tilted their hands, David's fingers loose around his bony wrist. “I don't hold hands,” he muttered, seemingly lost in thought, staring at the tie that kept him there in only the barest of senses. 

The words reminded David of stories told in the dim lights of Noh's ship at night, Kate and Billy and Teddy digging up memories of the past team when they were tired and sore and reminiscing on past adventures. The quote lingered half finished in his mind and David let the rest slip without thinking it through. “And you don't do feelings?” 

Tommy started, and glanced up at David, eyes meeting properly for what felt like the first time since Tommy had knelt over David on the battlefield right before speeding him out the area. David knew that his eyes were challenging, as sure as he could tell that Tommy's were searching. The unanswered question in his gaze held them there, until Tommy dragged his eyes back back down to their hands again. 

David waited, tension making the silence feel like everything was balancing on the edge of a precipice. “Maybe,” Tommy said, voice cautious. 

He twisted his hand again, and David started to let go, stomach sinking, only to find fingers slipping into his. The touch was light, but Tommy's hand was solid. Tommy met his eyes again, still searching, still scared, still unsure but yet, inexplicably, still there. “Maybe not.”


End file.
